


The Ties That Bind

by fiveysbrokenstar



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Apparently I'm really innocent, Character Study, Tag taken away for being used incorrectly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-08-10 08:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20132368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveysbrokenstar/pseuds/fiveysbrokenstar
Summary: "Everything was normal...until it wasn't."Rosalie is ten. Abandoned by everyone until she meets her father.





	1. Chapter 1

Rosalie sat still in the hard plastic chair. The police station – or at least the section she was in – was almost silent. Every now and then there was the distinct sound of footfall just outside the room as someone walked down the hall. Any time she'd been in a police station before this, she'd sat in the lobby or even in an office space while waiting for her case worker to show. The only thing that had changed since was her status. She was no longer considered human. She was supposed to be a ticking time bomb. 

As she began braiding her hair, a knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. A friendly-looking woman entered the room and Rosalie could almost sense her fear. She assumed this was the stranger's first time working with someone like her – even if her abilities hadn't developed yet. 

“Hello, I'm Marie with DCFS.”

The woman set a notepad on the table between them and offered her hand for the girl to shake.

Rosalie glanced at her trembling hand and decided not to take it to save her from the consequences of it. 

“So... When can I go home?” She asked quietly. 

“When was...uhm...the last time you saw your mother?”

“You didn't answer my question. I don't see what she has anything to do with this.”

Her sense of anxiety was rising quickly along with the obvious fear from the stranger across from her.

“When was the last time you saw your mother?” Marie asked again. 

“A-a week ago.”

Rosalie was never the best liar and often wondered why she wasn't ever caught. 

Marie sighed and shook her head in mock disappointment. It was quite clear she wasn't buying into the story.

“You two must've done something special, then. It was mother's day, after all,” she pressed. 

Rosalie swallowed nervously before giving the woman the best glare she could muster. She tried not to show just how young and scared she was. People like her would always be treated a little harsher than normals. She didn't even have the curse of powers yet. She jumped when the woman slammed her fist down on the table. 

'I went to dinner with her.'

Yet another lie. 

“Liar! You attended a mutant rights rally with others of your degenerate species.” 

Rosalie stared at the woman, for once too in shock to respond.

“Bet you don't even have anyone that would give a rat's ass about you,” Marie snarled. 

“I-I have a father.”

This wasn't exactly true. The man wasn't even aware of her existence – at least not yet. She had plans to tell him – eventually at least. The most she currently had was a name and an address.

“And that would be,” Marie pressed. 

“Charles Xavier.”

Marie grabbed her chin and roughly pulled it upwards so their eyes met.

“Liar. You'll go straight to the center.”

Rosalie's heart sank. She'd been to enough workshops and lectures to know that meant she would go there and months – or sometimes years – later, her dead body would be found in a ditch out in the middle of nowhere or dragged out of the depths of a river. The disposal staff at the “center” had a weird obsession with bodies of water. 

A police officer who was familiar with Rosalie stepped toward Marie. 

“You're still required to make him aware. Custody laws haven't changed.” 

“Yet,” Marie corrected.


	2. Chapter 2

Rosalie was terrified. In a few short hours, her world had been torn apart. Where was her mother? She didn't know and this was the only time she really even cared. She was shoved into a containment unit that was almost immediately loaded into a trailer. It smelled so heavily of bleach that it was dizzying. She scurried back as far as she could from the opening in the container, curling protectively around her backpack – the only belongings she had now. 

As anyone would, she had millions of questions that she wasn't sure she wanted answered. She wasn't there to investigate. She didn't want to know the atrocities they would commit, but these were “her kind”, so perhaps she had a duty to document the atrocities committed against them. 

She didn't put up a fight when they roughly pulled her backpack away and someone else shoved her into a washroom, throwing what looked like baggy pajamas at her. She barely managed to catch them before they hit the damp floor.

“Wash up,” they barked, pointing at a basket of bathing supplies.

She was hesitant, even after they left. She'd already noticed the cameras, but she didn't want to become their next victim so it was in her best interest to comply. 

As soon as she was changed, they ordered her out. She kept her head down until she was roughly shoved against a wall. Human – no, not human, mutant – rights didn't exist here. She just had to do enough to survive. She looked over as someone to her left cleared their throat. 

“What's this?” 

The man held up a make-up bag. It contained what little make-up she wore on a daily basis – and her camera. Her heart sank. She absolutely could not lose that camera. She started panicking a little. 

“Products for... feminine uses.” She gestured vaguely to herself. 

The man looked skeptical, but upon opening the bag all that was in there seemed to be make-up and various feminine health products. He put the bag back in her backpack. There was nothing in there that was in any way threatening and it wasn't like the kid had powers, so she wasn't threatening. 

A physician – or she assumed he was a physician given the lab coat – grabbed her left arm and held it out away from her body long enough to press a device to the flesh there. She felt the jolt of a spring releasing its tension and the sting of flesh being ripped away and then a burning as the metal device heated up. She glanced at her arm when the device was pulled away, noticing the perfect circle of tissue now missing. 

A guard led her to a cell. It was about as big as her bathroom back home and not furnished. There was a blanket, but other than that, the walls were made of plexiglass, leaving her completely exposed to anyone around her. 

By the end of her first week, Rosalie had five perfectly circular holes in her left arm where skin had once been. The wounds didn't bleed – as she'd learned the first day, the heat was to cauterize the wound – but they were otherwise left open and it was obvious the first two were beginning to get infected by the pain and inflammation. She didn't complain about the pain. She didn't want to know what the consequences were if she dared. However, on the bright side they didn't see her as enough of a threat to lock her cell door. She used her camera and the blind spots between the cameras to document everything meticulously. What she didn't or couldn't photograph, she counted. 

In the center, there was a total of twenty “patients”, kept in four different blocks which were segregated by how much of a risk they were. She'd befriended a few and photographed everything she could – any new wounds, descriptions of the painful tests. It didn't matter whether it was written down and dated or photographed. She even once was able to secretly film one of the experiments as it was her on the table. She prayed silently that she'd somehow get to show someone. 

At the end of the second week, she was handcuffed and led to a very nice lobby area towards the front of the building where guests were received. It was easy to see how the deception of this being some sort of doctors office was so easy to fall for. She tried to step backwards when faced with a man in a white suit jacket and black trousers. She'd learned to be afraid of people in white coats – it was never just lab coats the scientists wore and it always meant painful testing. 

The man smiled and offered his hand to shake as the guards left them alone. 

“Rosalie Xavier, I presume?” 

“Yes sir.”

Rosalie hesitantly shook his hand. She didn't recognize the man, so she reasoned with herself there was no need to be afraid. 

“Why-”

“I'm here to collect a sample for a paternity test,” he cut her off gently. 

Rosalie nodded slightly, not making eye contact. She was starting to get antsy considering she wasn't sure what to expect. 

_'Blood sample isn't possible.'_

Her head snapped up and she stared at the man. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't let this happen. If she developed powers, she'd be trapped here. 

“What's gonna happen?” She asked quietly. 

He walked her through the steps of the procedure, answering questions along the way. He was mildly impressed by the ten year old in front of him asking very in-depth questions. 

Rosalie fell quiet once he started swabbing her cheeks. It was the least painful thing she'd been through in the past two weeks. It was only once he was done that she decided it was safe to speak. 

“How long do results take to come in?”

“Three days at most,” He assured. 

Rosalie nodded, taking a deep breath. She was somewhat relieved to know that she'd have the truth of the matter in days. There were also the conflicting thoughts of worry that her father will reject her or that if he doesn't and she gets out worry of the friends she'd leave behind. 

After a good 15 minutes of normal conversation – just long enough for her to almost forget where she was or how bad her situation really was – two guards came. One guard escorted the geneticist out the front door while the other roughly dragged Rosalie back to her cell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick little update because I couldn't sleep.

Charles had been in a mild state of shock since he'd found out. Of course, he shouldn't have been surprised – in all reality, it was always very well possible given his reputation in the pubs as somewhat of a womanizer. The thing was, he couldn't even remotely remember taking someone home within the timeframe, then again the years between 1962 and 1973 were a blur of first pain medication and then alcohol to assist him in coping with the loss of his legs. He'd once tried something stronger, but hadn't liked the way it made him feel – or the lecture it'd earned him. 

Up until he'd received a phone call from some young officer in the city claiming he had a kid, he'd never given the possibility any thought. He did have a fairly successful school to run, after all. It had only been common sense to ask for a paternity test – if only to protect himself – but now the envelope sat unopened on his lap. He knew it contained the answers he hadn't really needed as he'd started the process of getting access to the facility to meet the girl once he'd been mailed a photo of her. It was clear they at least had some sort of familial relation – one he hoped was likely just a distant cousin or something similar. 

It took him a couple hours to actually open the envelope, and even then it was triggered by a short phone call, alerting him to the fact that the girl was ready for transport. A 99% match. That settled it at least. There was no going back, he couldn't turn his back on family – whether or not he knew them was subjective. 

An hour and a half later, the car was pulling into a drive. There were quick words exchanged between Hank and the security guard which he assumed were both arguing about the car being allowed through, though he'd stepped in and explained, the guard was still quite hesitant to let them in, insisting on double-checking with his supervisor, which took another thirty minutes.

A man and a woman met the car outside. The woman was wearing smart business attire and the man was in a suit with a patch adorning the breast pocket of his shirt. A quick, formal greeting was exchanged and Charles was led into the building alone. The two led him down a hall to a back office. This was a completely different area of the building that had no view of the cells most of the building's occupants lived in. 

“Where's the girl?” 

While he wasn't exactly amused with the lack of information he was being presented with, he knew better than to risk just _taking_ it. He'd hoped that he'd get to meet the girl before doing paperwork. 

The woman gave a sickly sweet smile. 

“I'm her case worker. Don't worry too much about her. She just had a bit of a scrape with one of our other patients. She's having her injuries looked at.” 

The way she described them as patients didn't sit right with Charles, but he tried to let it go. 

The man cleared his throat, shuffling some papers. “There's some release forms. She's a highly dangerous individual. Once the paperwork's done, she'll be waiting in the lobby.” 

He set the paperwork on his desk and walked Charles through the various forms, one of which guaranteed this wasn't the last say in the matter. Once the paperwork was completed, he buzzed a guard and barked out a serial number. 

The two led Charles out of the room, the case worker following behind the two men. The man led him out of the corridor that led to the office and into a little sitting area near the front of the building. It was nicely furnished with plush carpeting. The case worker ushered Charles inside, assuring him the girl would be there shortly. 

Charles shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair, noting how improbable an escape seemed from this room. He knew there wasn't really anything he could do. He was outnumbered and didn't quite want to risk angering one of them, so he entered the room only for the door to shut behind him, a lock clicking. He cursed under his breath. A minute later, there was an alarm and a great commotion heard from somewhere within the building. After a moment or so, tear gas flooded the room, pumped in through the vents. Charles scrambled to cover his mouth and nose, but the gas still stung his eyes, making it difficult to see. 

A guard opened the door, shoving a girl into the room without a second thought. They would be fine there until something else could be done with them.

The girl was shaking a little, having just had the barrel of a gun pressed to her back. She kept her head down, dark curls falling to hide her face. She curled up in a corner and tried to cover her mouth. She couldn't exactly _see_ the man properly, but she could sense his presence. It was the most familiar thing she'd encountered in what felt like months. 

It took roughly thirty seconds for the tear gas to be shut off. Neither of them spoke a word, too busy trying to catch their breath and process what had just happened. 

Charles could tell the girl was making telepathic passes at him, though he couldn't quite tell if it was intentional or not. Even if it was, now wasn't exactly the time to call her out on it when he'd worked hard enough to get her to the point where she could leave. 

The girl went to one corner of the room, digging around in the cupboard, producing a Styrofoam cup that hadn't been touched by the chemical. She ran water in a sink for a minute before filling the cup.

“Wash your eyes out or it'll cause damage.”

She was sure he was likely some sort of newbie and everyone usually pitched in to help guide them to just surviving. She'd known since the first time that she wanted to help. She went back to the cabinet, grabbing some paper towels. 

“I'm Rosalie, you are?” She asked, offering the paper towels.

“Charles.” 

“Oh, well, nice to meet you... uh... Don't worry about the tear gas, they do that when we get a little too rowdy.”

Charles looked at her and raised an eyebrow. He shouldn't have been caught off guard, but with how new these sort of in-between facilities were, he wasn't entirely sure what to expect. 

“Most of the other kids here have powers. I don-” the girl explained further, her cheery tone becoming a little more forced. 

“I'll have to stop you there.” 

The tone of his voice wasn't angry, more not wanting to continue the conversation in its current state. It wasn't much of a stretch to assume so much of the last month and a half had surrounded nothing but powers.

Rosalie mumbled an apology, looking slightly embarrassed. She'd been here almost a month and a half, just long enough for her to be afraid enough to forget what normal human interaction was like. She'd forgotten to give him room to talk more than a basic introduction. It occurred to him that she was in the wrong. 

“It's alright. Just...let's not talk about powers here. Wait until we leave. Okay?” His tone softened a little. 

Charles didn't want to come off as nagging for the moment. Right now, he wasn't here to act as a teacher – or at least that's what he kept reminding himself of. He didn't exactly trust his surroundings. 

“You're Professor Xavier, right?” The girl asked. 

There was a pause, both of them a little too awkward to continue the conversation for a few minutes. 

“I've come to take you home.”

Another pause, this time on Charles' behalf. Could he even call the school her _home_? He certainly couldn't let her go back to that ratty little apartment and risk her safety.

“Does this mean I get to go? Like back to my mom's apartment?” She sounded almost hopeful. 

At the question, Charles sighed a little. 

“I'm afraid not. I'll explain more in the car,” He tried to sound reassuring. 

They were both silent. Roaslie lost in thought and the Professor seeming a little more hesitant to continue the conversation in their present location. She didn't understand why. This was another place for kids like herself. Sure, there were weird perfectly-round circles stamped out of the first few layers of her skin, but she was trying to be optimistic despite her surroundings – they really weren't that bad. 

Several minutes of silence later, a guard opened the door. This guard was one of the 'nicer' ones, more apologetic about the gas that had leaked into the ventilation system and how they were both free to go. 

Charles wondered just how much of this was a show for his benefit. A quick probe of the mind told him far more detail than he wanted to know. He kept an eye on the guard, all the more warier as he could feel the girl's anxiety grow. 

Rosalie was anxious. She had so many questions and not near enough answers. She thought for a moment, not really sure what to say. She became a little worried and folded her arms across her chest, feeling a bit vulnerable. 

“I...don't mean to offend or anything... I'm sure you're super nice, but my mom told me some unsavory things about you,” She glanced down, feeling uncertain of continuing. 

“I don't know who your mother is, Rosalie,” he explained as they arrived outside. 

Rosalie glanced at him, detecting hints of emotions she couldn't quite detect but knew weren't her own. 

“I'm sorry for asking. I just had to be sure...” 

“Until we can have a moment to discuss in private, why don't you think about the questions you most want answered,” He suggested. 

Rosalie didn't say anything for the entire car ride back to the school. She tried to keep her thoughts under wraps and was somewhat grateful that he hadn't made any attempts to probe her mind. 

Once they arrived, she got out along with the driver, who had shed his over-sized coat and hat.

“This is Hank, Rosalie. He's gonna take a look at your arms, if that's alright. They look a bit painful,” Charles explained. 

Rosalie looked over at him. She hadn't been asked if she was okay with something in a long time – or at least a long time to a 10 year old. She looked a little hesitant. 

“Hank has seen worse wounds than that. If you'd accompany him to the medical lab, he'll clean and dress the wounds,” Charles elaborated a little. 

“Okay, as long as he doesn't bite.” 

“Don't worry. Not as mean as I look,” Hank responded to the halfhearted attempt at a joke. 

Rosalie offered a grateful smile and allowed herself to be led downstairs once inside. The halls were empty, telling her it was more likely everyone else was in class. Once they were in the medical lab, she stood on her toes to look at some of the equipment hidden behind some boxes, letting curiosity to get the better of her. 

“I'll give you a little tour if you sit still,” Hank offered lightly.

Rosalie nodded enthusiastically. She was still just as much of a child, no matter what happened. 

Hank diligently numbed her arm before working to clean out infection and other debris that came from the wounds not being covered. 

Rosalie squirmed very little, too busy glancing around at the rest of the room. She tensed a bit at times when he moved to the newer wounds, but otherwise didn't say anything. At the end, she was rewarded with a quick tour of the medical lab and the various equipment it contained. 

The tour only came to an end because Charles interrupted or at least he was caught watching the two.

Hank had insisted on Rosalie going with her father and the girl didn't bother protesting. 

Charles showed her around the mansion a little before bringing her up to the second floor and to a particular door. 

“And this would be your room,” He explained. 

Rosalie didn't say anything, hesitant to move. She'd been cooped up enough despite the amount of walking she'd just done. After a moment or so, she opened the door. There were a couple cardboard boxes of clothes stacked in the corner and a bag of other things. She set her book bag on the floor. The bed was neatly made with a teddy bear sitting dead center, resting against the pillows. It was the only thing that hadn't been among her sparse belongings. She glanced back at the Professor curiously before picking it up. 

“What's this?” She turned to face him. 

“I thought it might help,” It was a thinly veiled lie. 

“Thank you...” 

She sat down on the bed, the bear in her lap. It wasn't familiar, but she was grateful for it despite the fact it was just a comfort object. 

“The others should be getting out of class for lunch if you want to meet some of your peers,” Charles offered. 

“I think I'll just stay here and unpack.”


End file.
